Breaking Point
by SilverSkyBlade
Summary: It's a simple concept. An object is only as strong as it's weakest point. If you want to destroy it, you seek out the point and hit it correctly, and it shatters outward into a million sparkling shards.The same principle holds true for humans.[slight edit


**Disclaimer: It's not mine. A girl can dream though. **

**Author's note: Wow I'm drowning in angst. I do not know why I wrote this, but I really hated the premiere, so I stayed stuck in the past for this story, at least for now. This is in the car after the semi plowed into the metallicar.**

An object is only as strong as its weakest point. And well, we all have one. A chink in the armor. A gap in the defenses. A frayed strand in the fabric. Something, that if hit properly, with the correct leverage, will bring us to our knees with a crushing definitive blow. It's all a matter of knowing exactly where to hit.

John Winchester was a strong man. An ex marine he could keep his cool in any situation. But not now. Not here. Not waking up in the car where both of his sons were dying, literally in front of him. He had opened his eyes to the sound of Dean's music and the labored breathing of his boys. The door was pinning him in, crushing his right side. His head and chest hurt and his leg was on fire and he was gonna have one hell of a sore back tomorrow. But at least he would LIVE to see tomorrow. Looking at his sons he wasn't quite so sure. He saw Sammy first, his head and neck tilted awkwardly against the window, a blood veined network of cracks directly behind it. His breathing was swift and shallow. Too shallow for John's liking. This…this wasn't Sam. His mind denied the sight before him, shoving it away almost repulsively. Sam…Sam was all over the place. Sam was always asking questions, moving, arguing, rubbing his father the wrong way. But he was **Sam**. Sam was too stubborn to die. If Sam was ever going to die before his time, he was going to go up to heaven, pound on those pearly gates and ask why the hell he was up here without his permission. Sam was not going to die like this. He was not going to die thinking his father hated him. No. He was not going to die period. Sam…Sam had the strongest life force of anyone John knew. He had an innocence that radiated from him even in the darkest shadows. He had inherited every bit of the Winchester stubbornness, but he had a gentle kind spirit. And he loved his brother more than anything.

"Dean…" John forced out, twisting his body painfully to take a look at his other son. Jesus there was so much blood. Just everywhere, all over. His breaths were raspy and shuddering. When Dean wasn't on his guard he looked like a child again. But the second he opened his eyes you knew he wasn't and would never be. He had forced him to grow up far too fast. Forced him to take on so much more than anyone should have ever had to. And yet his strong stable son hadn't complained-not once. He too had an energy, a light, but his was channeled into his family, into protecting his brother. An insane instinctive urge to always look out for Sammy. He was loyal even when the rest of his family wasn't. And now the two of them were dying, auras fading, souls flying upward. And John would be left behind-the little good that was left in his life-obliterated, snuffed out. God couldn't be that cruel, could he? John wondered. First Mary, now his boys? No God couldn't be that cruel. He just couldn't. John repeated this mantra over and over to himself. Then he heard a voice from the backseat.

Dean wondered what the hell had just happened. How could the pain have possibly gotten any worse? What had been that sickening crunching noise? And where had the sounds of Sammy and Dad arguing (again) gone? With a massive effort he forced open his eyes, just slightly and through his awkward sprawled position in the backseat he could see the abandoned semi the lights glaring into his face.

"Dean…" came a croaking voice from the front. "Dad? What happened?" God talking hurt so much.

"There's…there's been an accident."

"What!" Dean forced out. If he could move, which he couldn't, he would have bolted upright. "How are you? How's Sammy!"

"I'm fine" John said softly. "I'm just stuck. And Sammy…"

Panic grabbed Dean in its cruel grip. "What's wrong with him? How bad?"

"It's…bad, Dean. I think he hit his head on the side window. His breathing is shallow and fast. Probably going into shock."

Dean could feel despair descending hard and fast. No, not Sammy. Sammy wouldn't leave him. He was far too stubborn to die. He was gonna get up to heaven and throw a tantrum and ask God why the hell he had to be some freaky assed angel with shiny wings when his family needed him, when he still had to become a lawyer, get a real life, find some blond chick to settle down with. But Dean knew the truth. Sam was dying. He was dying. His father might be dying too, and even if he wasn't he wasn't going to be able to save his sons. Dean could feel the abyss beckoning and he let himself sink into it, unable to fight any longer.

Sam hated himself. _Mind over matter Sam! Just open your goddamn eyes and get your family out of this mess! Damn it, your family is **DYING **and you can't even open your eyes. _His body argued back._ Hell I don't care if my entire body hurts like shit right now! This is all your fault, and you need to help! Dean is dying if he isn't already- No, he wasn't going to think like that. He needed to be strong. He needed to open his fucking EYES!_ He tried again, in vain. _God that was just how weak he was, he couldn't save Jess, he couldn't save Max, and for so long he had courted the idea that maybe his mother's death was not his fault after all, but the truth is it was. Sam didn't care if he died but he was not going to bring his family down with him! _Sam attempted to move his body again.

John watched in amazement as Sam started shifting around in his seat, eyes still closed. "Sammy?"

"Dean…have to help them…so fucking weak…suck it up Sam!" John felt his emotions stir at these words. Sam thought he was weak, when the thing was; he was every bit as strong as the rest of the Winchesters. Stronger even. Sam's breathing came faster now, a fine trembling had taken over his body, but he was still moving.

"DEAN!" Sam's eyes flicked open, and he attempted to sit up, before falling back against the window cracking his head again. John winced. "Damn Sammy don't move."

Sam struggled to push himself up again, panting wildly with the effort. "I don't care, I have to get us out of here" he gritted out between clenched teeth.

"SAM!"

Sam froze and shook for a moment before falling back again. "Sam, can you get to your cell phone? I need to call for help."

"Yeah I think" Sam fumbled in his jacket, still fighting for air, with a inward cry of triumph he jerked out his cell phone and handed it to his father, hands shaking badly. He leaned back against the window, exhausted. His breathing got shallower and more and more erratic as he stayed there against the window. John took note of this and forced his own nervously twitching fingers to dial faster. "Sammy hold on." Sam's eyes slipped closed, his breathing now so faint that the only way you could tell he was breathing was by the tiny patch of mist that appeared on the window, then disappeared, then thank god-reappeared. Disappeared. Reappeared. Disappeared.

"SAMMY! Hold on!" He could hear Dean's breath getting more labored, more wet and raspy as his lungs filled with blood. And then his was gone too. "DEAN! Damn it, sons! Don't you dare let go! Don't you dare to fucking let go! "

A far too calm female voice sounded in his ears. "Emergency services, what is your emergency?"

"Please there's been an accident, neither of my sons are breathing, we're about ten minutes out on the southern highway, we were on our way there when we were hit!"

"Sir please calm down an ambulance has been dispatched." The voice continued on and on but it all faded away for John.

You'd think the Winchester men were already broken. You'd think that John's point had been hit 22 years ago, when his wife blazed above him. You'd think that Sam's point had been hit-so many fucking times- when his mother and girlfriend burned in his dreams and the world hurled all this guilt at him-that he took. You'd think that Dean's point had been hit-just as many times- starting on the night 22 years ago, the night his childhood died with his mother, and then every single time after that he felt he failed his family. But the thing was, none of the Winchester men were broken. Not yet. But now they were-all three of them, in the car, each of them dying. Because the truth was, their weakest point was just that-each other.

**Author: Read and Review please! All of you reading my chapter story, Rich People's Houses, I'm sorry about the lack of updating, life really hates me lately. Plus I have writers block. –Sighs- if anyone has any brilliant ideas about it they wanna share please PM or email me.**


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